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I felt her broken gaze staring back at me from the other side.
I could taste her suffocation in the air.
I looked into her eyes, they formed dimensions I could never shape myself into.
The sound of broken glass filled the room, the echoes cutting through as response to my silent screams.
The shredded pieces from the canvass painted my skin with blood.
My bleeding fists wish to bring the color back to her blank and empty eyes.
But what to do with a soul that sees but doesn’t recognize?

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Hi, I went Dora mode earlier. Without the map. Because honestly, how can you call yourself an explorer when you’re limiting yourself to only mapped territories?

Anyways. I don’t have a map. I was too shy to ask the driver for specific directions so I just squinted at the glaring signboards to know if I’m on the right track. Lol, how was I to know that? Soooo I might have asked the driver to drop me off the wrong stop. GUESS WHO WALKED WAY MORE DISTANCE THAN SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO? *waves hand in the air like I don’t care*

That one epic fail was a sign sent from the gods of omens.

BUT IT WASN’T! BECAUSE THERE ARE NO GODS, BITCHES.

Yep, anyway.

Guess what!

The person we interviewed was so cool. So chill. So Orwellian. He’s a talking manifesto. But no, seriously, he was chill. His office was in dire need of proper ventilation, though unless he plan on being Hades “Cy, no gods, remember?” “Oh right, sorry sorry.” But he’s got the look for it.

Anyway, blah blah blah. Interview over. I spoke once, only to stutter my way to disaster. It was comparable to stuffing four marshmallows inside my mouth and trying to speak.

“So, sir. Um. Oh. Kuya. Okay, um. Like you said earlier, um a few moments ago if you can remember, news websites are ‘privately-owned’ by big corporations so um aren’t they restricted, meaning limited and caged-in, to being in favor of these sides? Like, sides *tries illustrating two opposite poles with hands* yep, sides. So, being restricted leading to restrictive? *starts waving hands in the air like I don’t care*”

It was a cool thing he was cool. Otherwise, I’d look like an ultimate fool.

That was tiring. Someone was also hit by a train today on our way home. My friends were all excited seeing the body. I think we’ve breathed enough pollution from the streets of Manila that it has taken over our brain.

I’m still high, see.

Peace, yo.

P.S. I ate too much cookies. AND IT WAS EVEN PEANUT BUTTER *horrified gasps*

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It’s because I hate myself. And well, what I say of the world is a reflection of my views which is rooted from that self.

I hate myself. And the challenge for me is stop doing that. And well, the best thing to overcome just that is a self-evaluation. Who the fuck am I? What encompasses the entity I call myself?

Fine, let’s have a flashback.

Looking back on how I spent the days before the summer classes started, I was shown an image of myself mummified by my blankets and entombed by my room. You can imagine how lazy I was but this laziness proved not to be solved by anything.

I entertained myself by browsing the internet and watching videos of people whose lives are more exciting than mine. Drowned myself in stories I would never experience in the real world. Got lost in the currents of questions I can never find answers to.

And this current suddenly became so calm until it reached the point of it being so static. I grew tired. I was constantly aiming for something greater and I don’t even know what that was. I guess I was looking for that “Great Perhaps” but I don’t know where to look.

And I don’t even know if I really wanted to or the situation just called for the need. I don’t know.

And this static state led for me to be bored. So bored. If you want to get as close to death as possible, I would suggest you try boredom. The thing with this boredom I experienced was that nothing seems to ever satisfy it. I would feed it things to experience and it just doesn’t have the energy to stand up and do something.

My spirit was aching for some adventures but my mind refused to give it that. This battle of states eventually made me static myself. In an equilibrium? Lol, bruh, please.

You might be thinking I was exploring. Or even lost. LOL, bruh, PLEASE.

How can I be lost when I am stuck? I’m stuck. I’d much rather be lost but no, I’m stuck. Feet firmly planted on the ground—never moving forward nor back. I don’t know what to aim for because nothing seems fun to do. Nothing would motivate me to move forward, I’m that bored.

I don’t know what shook me that made me think I needed a push. It slapped me out of my trance. I stopped hallucinating.

Guess what? I stopped being scared.

The moment I stopped being scared, an idea flashed into my head. I wanted to do something, I wanted to grow and live and not be pounded into a pulp by boredom. That is how I managed to think about, “What if we make a club?”

So, yes. I aim for some air, I aim for life now.

That’s challenging in itself.

Why? Well, life isn’t always a smooth road. There are bumps in the way. But well, I don’t really know where it will lead us to. So, I’d rather not think too much and just enjoy it all. I don’t want to think about whether it’s painful or rewarding. Overthinking kills my brain but then would give way to my spirit being center stage. But overindulging on things my spirit wants would eventually lead to an overwhelming fiasco of suffocation.

So, whatever. I’d much rather enjoy the ride.

If there is any.

If not, I live in the invisible idea that there is.

I think that would pave the way of not hating myself because I lose myself in the process. There isn’t anyone to hate.

Quite a fucking challenge.

I piss on it.

So, peace out.

P.S. But I do love myself sometimes. That’s a different topic already. Requires more peeled-off layers. I’m an onion, the more you peel off, the more your nose would wrinkle so let’s not go there.

P.P.S. I love myself when I love him. So, yes. I love myself now and forever. But again, too personal to share.

P.P.P.S. How delicious these donuts are. I can imagine the amount of regret I would sink into after eating a whole batch of them.

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White walls surround me as if trying to enclose me with their purified blankness. So, I stray away trying not to stand too close, always planting my feet firm on the middle of the room.

And gradually, from the distance I made, they were free to start collecting dust. Fragments of tiny particles formed from the joining of earth and air gathered close to their bodies. They became tinted. Corrupted. Downcasted. Became a mockery to the before form they once stood proudly to embrace me with.

But they aren’t blank anymore. They aren’t singular, aren’t empty.

Time has placed colors into these walls. Time has written stories of how time fades away so quickly.

And it is not so much of a bad thing, really. I enjoyed tracing them, connecting one pool of dust with the scattered webs floating on the other side. Enjoyed weaving patterns of dust like wool with my two eyes, crossing them together for a blanket to cover me.